


A Little Fall Of Rain

by SherlockWolf



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mako Poisoning (Compilation of FFVII), Memory Loss, Post-Crisis Core (Compilation of FFVII), Psychological Trauma, Zack's death scene interpretation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 15:21:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23713522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockWolf/pseuds/SherlockWolf
Summary: The sight before him…Cloud doesn’t want to see it. Wants it to be a nightmare. Maybe he’s still lying against the ravine wall, hallucinating while Zack saves them. Zack will come back. He has to. He has to.The darkened color of Zack’s shirt tells a different story.
Relationships: Zack Fair/Cloud Strife
Comments: 6
Kudos: 66





	A Little Fall Of Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a tumblr post by squarepheenix that read, "Someone give me a sad clack fic where Zack is slowly dying and Cloud is trying to come to terms with it while struggling with forgetting everything PLEASE." and i tried my best  
> ~  
> Title and original dialogue based on the Les Misérables song of the same title.

“Zack…” His voice breaks as he speaks, crushed under the weight of what he’s found. 

The sight before him…Cloud doesn’t want to see it. Wants it to be a nightmare. Maybe he’s still lying against the ravine wall, hallucinating while Zack saves them. Zack will come back. He has to. He _has_ to.

The darkened color of Zack’s shirt tells a different story. And he’s so still, rain falling in his hair, eyes, trickling down his face and smearing blood from his scalp with it. The blood collects in the rain puddles around them. Cloud wonders if he’s already gone, but then Zack reacts to his name, grunts in pain as he adjusts his head so he can see Cloud. A smile forms, but Cloud has gone numb from the rain or the shock and can’t return it.

“For the…both of us.” Zack tells him with conviction.

“Both…of us?” Cloud repeats, quiet, confused.

His head hasn’t been clear in…forever. It’s been hard to focus, but Zack’s battered state is pulling him in, absorbing his attention. He almost feels lucid. Almost.

“That’s right. You’re gonna…You’re gonna…” He sounds so, _so_ tired.

Cloud should stop him from talking, wasting what’s left of his energy. But all he can bring himself to do is keep his eyes locked with Zack’s, taking in the life-light of the man who became his everything. Zack slowly reaches up, clasps a hand behind Cloud’s neck, and pulls Cloud’s head to his chest. Cloud doesn’t turn, doesn’t want to hear the slowing heartbeat of his best friend. Something wet, sticky, clings to him where he’s pressed against Zack’s chest. A sharp metallic smell invades his senses, making his mouth and eyes water. It messes with his head, makes him lightheaded like he’s going to fade again. He wants it gone. He can’t miss this, can’t pass out now.

“Live.” Zack commands, and the word strikes Cloud at his core.

How can Zack be thinking about him right now? Cloud can barely concentrate, and he’s not the one…the one…

Zack tightens his hand in Cloud’s hair, continues, “You’ll be…my living legacy.”

_Legacy._ Isn’t that what SOLDIER is about? Lasting impressions, meant to intimidate and inspire for generations. Zack is a source of endless inspiration for Cloud. Always brave, always protecting, always a man of action. He wants Cloud to be like him, to inherit and practice those traits. To be the hero Zack was.

Cloud doesn’t want any of it. He wants Zack to be okay, to keep carrying him around until he gets better so that Cloud can return the favor and protect him in kind.

Zack’s hand slips from his hair, strength lost. Cloud leans back up, needing fresh air to rid his mouth of the taste of blood and clear his head. He doesn’t get relief from the scent, the blood congealed to his skin and hair. Zack picks up the buster sword with his other hand, lifting it toward Cloud.

“My honor, my dreams,” He tilts the hilt toward Cloud’s chest, “They’re yours now.”

Cloud can’t deny the adamance in Zack’s eyes. He takes the sword in his own hands. Zack lets go, gives one of his hands a small push, bringing the sword closer to Cloud. Cloud clutches it like a small, frightened child holding tight to their parent’s shirt hem.

“I’m…your living…legacy.” Cloud repeats dully, because he could never refuse.

“That’s right.” Zack affirms.

Cloud sets the sword behind himself, lets go so he can put his hands on Zack’s arm instead.

“Does…it hurt?” He asks, when he really means _where_ and _what can I heal_ even though he has no materia and can’t remember how to use one anyway.

“The rain…can’t hurt…silly.” Zack teases, fingers twitching as though to grasp Cloud’s hand in his.

Cloud tightens his grip for him.

“The rain…will make the flowers…grow.”

“Flowers?” Cloud repeats.

He hasn’t seen a flower in days. In fact, he can’t remember the last time he saw one.

Zack doesn’t respond, eyes slipping closed as though he’s falling asleep. Cloud waits, own heartbeat pounding, drowning out the rush of the rain and his thoughts. Zack never responds.

Cloud wants to call his name, shout for him, but the only sounds he can make are wordless gasps from a pain that holds him hostage, grips his soul and refuses to let him feel anything else. He tilts his head to the sky to let out that pain with a scream, but it doesn’t leave. His chest still hurts, heart heavy, eyes wet with more than rain. He can’t breathe.

Images of Zack flash in his mind’s eye. Zack smiles at him in every one, sometimes silly, sometimes serious, always genuine. Some memories are from before their escape from Hojo’s lab, and some are from their time on the run when all Cloud could do was watch Zack, his body a movie theatre. If only he could have moved sooner, been able to stop Zack from walking away at the ravine. Maybe, if he wasn’t so _sick_ , he could have saved him.

_“Embrace your dreams. If you want to be a hero, you need to have dreams.”_ Zack had told him once, long ago.

Right now, all Cloud could think to dream of was having Zack back. But that sort of dream wouldn’t make him a hero. Perhaps he could dream of being like Zack, of fulfilling his legacy. Then he could be a hero. For Zack.

“Thank you.” Cloud tells him, though Zack can no longer hear.

He has to clench his teeth against the pain to choke out the rest of what he has to say, “I won’t forget.”

Cloud stands, sword in hand once more. He can’t take his eyes off Zack, broken and bloodied though he is. Cloud wants to remember, now. So that he can carry the hurt with him, use it to drive himself to achieving Zack’s dreams for him—to become a hero.

He almost expects Zack to move, to sit up and shake off the injuries as he always has. But he doesn’t. And Cloud feels his heart finally split in two. The physical pain mixes with the emotional and his face, previously numbed by shock, shatters. Tears blur his vision, his lips shake, and he has to clench his eyes shut against the staggering sensation of being utterly _lost_. What will he do without Zack? Where will he go? He has no one, nothing to return to.

He knows Zack was taking them to Midgar. Perhaps there he can find somewhere, something to be.

Cloud opens his eyes and takes one last look upon his friend, “Goodnight,” he says, then turns his back because he won’t be able to finish otherwise, “Zack.”

Slowly, one step at a time, Cloud walks away, dragging the sword behind him. He knows Zack would have chastised him, but he doesn’t yet have the strength to carry it properly.

The farther he gets from Zack, the quicker he loses the details of his face. As the rain fades with the first night, Cloud hides in between rocks and dreams of caked desert earth stained red, angel wings and black feathers. In the morning, he can’t remember Zack’s jawline. It sharpens, widens, is wrong, wrong, wrong. By the third day, he can’t remember the length of Zack’s hair, or the quirk of his smile. His heart aches for the sound of a laugh he’ll never hear again, and he can’t bring himself to walk that day.

On the fifth day, he wakes up with his sword on his lap. It’s a beautiful sword, though a bit dusty and rusting with dried blood. A shame he’d had to use it lately. Didn’t he always say, use brings about wear, tear, and rust? He decides his first priority when he gets to Midgar will be to wash his sword.

That day is the first he doesn’t think about Zack.

On the seventh day, he ponders what people in Midgar would think of an ex-SOLDIER choosing to be a mercenary. What would they ask? Perhaps, how long. Where he started. Why he left. Cloud knew he didn’t owe anyone explanations, but he came up with them just in case. No one could know he’d only just left Shinra, or that he had been the one to kill the famous General Sephiroth. He has to have a cover.

By the time he reaches Midgar on the thirteenth day, Cloud Strife no longer remembers Zack Fair. He dreams of nothing, perhaps only riches and country-side retirement.


End file.
